Beautiful Wasteland
by Rokubi
Summary: Commander Shepard is ready to die. What she isn't ready for is crash-landing on Earth; broken, battered, and alone. Now she must struggle to survive, all while coming to terms with the truth of the Reapers, and what it means for her and the one she loves. Post-ME3.
1. Ugly Galaxy

**Title:** Beautiful Wasteland

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Bioware.

**Beta Reader: **OinkyThePiggy

**Summary:** Commander Shepard is ready to die. What she isn't ready for is crash-landing on Earth; broken, battered, and alone. Now she must struggle to survive, all while coming to terms with the truth of the Reapers, and what it means for her and the one she loves. Post-ME3.

* * *

Chapter One

Ugly Galaxy

The forest is on fire.

Burning at a tamed pace as it spreads through the underbrush and nips at what little life resides there. Still, even with its sluggish crawl, it is all-consuming and utterly relentless as it moves. Sparing nothing in its wake as it passes; as it shifts and coils and crackles like a monster with red eyes gleaming bright against the ink filled sky.

Her dream is on fire and it is burning away the low fog that has always clung tight to the ground here. That has always thickened as she tried to run until she was going no faster than if she was treading murky black water.

From the fire, gray smoke curls and shudders until she can see herself emerge from it, hands on the shoulder of the boy from Earth. More people join her twin and they cluster tightly around her, moving willingly into the fire's maw.

They are all being eaten alive in front of her—clothes catching, hair singeing, skin blistering—but they do not care in the least. They do not flinch or scream or cry for her help, and not once do their sorrowful stares waver from her. And she can see it; finally see the message in their eyes.

All this time it has been a message. Not from the child slain on Earth months ago—one of the first of many causalities—but from _herself_.

These dreams and nightmares have been coated with the same inky black songs she was warned about so long ago. The same disjointed light that Benezia was incased in. The same false 'Promised Land' Saren rebelled against in the end.

She is a fool. To think she was above the demonic thrall of the metal gods. She is a fool for not seeing it sooner. For thinking the death of one child could haunt her so relentlessly.

She's not callous, but his death may be the _kindest_ death any child could have hoped for in this war. He died before knowing the true pain and terror of the Reapers. He died never to be used against his own people.

She is a fool.

She knows that now, but it is hard to keep hold of that knowledge. It's trying to slip away, a fake needle in a never ending haystack; nothing solid or concrete.

She has to hold on, she knows. If this revelation leaves then she'll be another pawn again.

And she's tired of dancing to the Reapers' song.

They are calling to her now; demons cooing out in voices of the fallen ones. _Not real_, she reminds herself. She's always known what these hazy moments are, just dreams. Yet, now it's becoming more real than snippets of ghost filled reveries. Now it's a battle for her mind and body; a battle she does not know how to fight or win.

The fire is growing, spreading with a wild untamed will, and is now eating fully at her doppelganger, the child long gone from its arms.

For the first time she wishes Thane is right. That it is her soul, untainted by the Reapers' spell, staring back at her. That even if she fails, the _core_ of her will always fight the black song she now hears. Even if her body falls, a part of her will forever live without the corruption…

She wants to laugh. And she does. It echoes hollowly and the image of her wavers at the bitter sound.

Death is no peace. She _knows_ this. Knows, like Benezia did, there is no light at the end, only pain and death.

_That_ is not her soul staring at her and she cannot hope that some abstract part of her will live on if she fails. It is her _body_ she must control. It is her _mind_ and very _will_ if she wishes to live.

It's so easy to let the lies in, she realizes. They feed off of the wants of her heart. Off of the words of fallen friends. If her soul does exist, it will want to fight, because _she_ wants to fight.

She will fight, and try her hardest to win.

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Charlotte Shepard wakes with a gasp. Something swirls at the edge of her vision and even though sleep is still thick in her eyes, her sight is clear. Clearer than it's been in months—years in fact—and she is hit with the meaning of it.

"No," she weakly calls as her mind jump-starts and begins scanning through every choice, every action she has ever made since she first met Sovereign; since she first met Nazara.

Killing the Rachni Queen.

Leaving the Council.

Destroying the Collector base.

Curing the genophage.

Letting Legion upload the Reaper code.

And so many more. What were her choices and what were _theirs_?

"No," she near sobs and strong hands pull at her. Shepard jumps and pushes at them, not wanting to be pulled under again.

"Charlotte," a dueled voice calls, panic making it shake. "Wake up. I'm right here. Wake up."

She stops resisting and is pulled against a warm chest. Three-fingered hands comb through her hair and a face is tucked into the crook of her neck. A soft hum fills her ears and vibrates through her shaking body. She relaxes; wrapping her arms around a narrow waist and closing her eyes to the sweet song.

A song that is so much better than the oily one at the back of her mind.

"Garrus." She can feel him relax at his name and lightly drags his mandible along her skin affectionately. He pulls back and his blue eyes meet her green ones. His are full of concern and he looks unsure how to ask what she was dreaming of.

"Garrus," she sighs as she pushes harder to keep the song at bay. She needs to tell him. She needs to let him know she's…

He needs to know she's indoctrinated.

For how long, she doesn't know.

She's been around Reapers longer than any other person in the galaxy. Why _wouldn't_ she be indoctrinated?

Garrus presses his head to hers and asks, "Bad dream?"

Shepard feels a burn in her throat as she tries to find the words to tell the man she loves he has to throw her in the brig. Killing her would actually be the best choice, as she has too much influence; is too strong and smart and tricky, but no one on the ship has the heart to do it. Not after everything she's done for them.

She's already aware of it, though. She's already breaking it… or she _thinks_ she is. This could be a temporary thing. In the morning she might think this all to be nothing more than her overactive imagination.

…Is it?

No! It isn't. It is _real_. She knows it's real and she can't keep listening to the song.

"You ever get them?" she asks, buying time to clear her head, but the question is actually a very good one.

Does Garrus, someone who has been with her every step of the way, does he get _them_?

He moves to put a bit of space between them. "I tend to expect the worse anyway. So dreaming about it is just a waste of good sleep." He offers her a smile and Shepard feels like the universe has fallen from under her.

He's lying.

He's not trying to burden her with his own fears, like he always does.

He's lying.

_No_. If it was just her, that would have been bearable—she has been living on borrowed time—but Garrus? He's done _nothing_ wrong. He's only ever tried to make the galaxy better and been screwed over again and again for it. He's followed her to hell and back, no matter how badly he was hurting on the inside. And now this is what he gets?

Will it even matter if she tells him? Will he believe her? Will they _let_ him believe?

For some reason the Reapers are letting them fight against them. For some reason they are letting them rebel. Why? Why do _any_ of this?

The song is trying to take hold again; pushing its way under her skin, wrapping itself around her tongue, muting her questions, ending her doubts….

_Just fight_. It wants her to fight the war with all her strength. This is a dance they have been doing for longer than she can comprehend. There are acts that _need_ to happen. There are choices that _need _to be made. It wants her to fight a losing battle.

"Shepard?" Garrus fidgets at her stare and she finally notices he's dressed. He normally doesn't linger long in her room as they both have work to do and people to talk to. Sometimes he's even gone before she wakes. Shepard holds no bitterness at his departures, but right now she wants him to stay, because _she_ is in full control and she's sure her actions and thought are hers. In the morning the ink will bleed into her sight and she'll be sure this was her just overacting.

She's in control… and she knows she still _loves him_ with every fiber of her being. And she's so damn happy that at least her feelings for him are real, even if the rest of the universe is an awful lie.

"Don't go," she urges as she reaches to cradle his face in her hands and kisses him. "Stay." She deepens the kiss, wanting to feel him. _Really_ feel him. To know at least one embrace that is not tainted by the Reaper's song. He breaks the kiss and pulls her body to his.

"I'm not going anywhere, Charlotte." Garrus presses his head to hers, blue eyes deep with adoration. With trust and worry and tenderness and passion and—

"I love you," she whispers breathlessly against his plates as she kisses and touches everywhere she can. Her hands find the clasps of his clothes and he gives a deep chuckle that makes her body flame with a delicious kind of fire.

"Again? So soon? Didn't know I was that good." He dips his head to nip at her shoulder before sliding his hand up her back and releasing the clasp of her bra. She's disappointed he doesn't return her words. He's made them clear with his actions, but she still craves to hear them said in the voice she adores most.

She lies down, pulling him with her, and she lets his blue eyes and hot body keep the dark song at bay.

She lets his beautiful song drown out the other.

* * *

Shepard frowns as she heads down to the cargo deck. Her head feels fuzzy and she really hopes she's not coming down with anything.

"You okay?" Garrus asks as he brushes his talon through her short, dark hair; his eyes crinkling with concern at her contorted face.

"Yeah, just feeling a little out of it," she admits with a light shrug.

Garrus laughs. "Well, if someone wasn't so persistent last night she wouldn't be so warn out right now." Then he looks away, almost shyly. "Really, Shepard, what came over you?"

Shepard blushes as she remembers pulling at him as her mouth and hands explored him like it was their first and only time; like there was no tomorrow. Well, there might not be. Not with this war.

"Don't know." She bumps her shoulder into his as the elevator opens. She walks out and looks back at him. "Guess I just can't get enough of you, Vakarian." She winks and she's sure that he would blush if he could.

"Still trying to make me blush, Commander?"

Shepard gives a wicked grin. "You know it. Now let's go rip the Illusive Man a new one."

"Gladly."

* * *

Commander Shepard stands in front of the Citadel's AI. Choices. There are _choices_.

Control. Destroy. Synthesis. Or none, she can always turn away.

"You must choose," the AI urges with a voice mixed with her own, in the body of the child from her dreams—

_Her dreams_. This boy has haunted her for so long, but how does the AI know that? She's told no one, not even Garrus. So how does this machine know to take this form before her?

It's in her head.

_It's in her head._

_**It's in her head.**_

The Citadel is in her head.

The Citadel, it controls the Reapers. It _made_ the Reapers. The Citadel is the source of the Reapers and their tech and...

She's indoctrinated. They are _all_ indoctrinated; every-damn-body who has ever stepped foot on the Citadel.

All this time? She just can't understand. Why do this? Why let the brainwashed pawns fight back? Are these choices even real? Why lie if they aren't?

Shepard's attention wavers from the child in front of her, her mind trying desperately to understand everything. To know if any of this even matters anymore.

"There has to be an end." The voice has changed. She hasn't looked away, but where once the little boy stood is now a pale blue Garrus and Shepard staggers back in shock.

The new image holds her attention far better than the previous one and the AI goes on; "A cycle must end for the next to begin. The parents must die for the child to take its place. Without an end there can be no creation. Without death there can be no life." The AI tilts his head in a perfect mock of Garrus. She wants to yell at it to change back, as seeing his face only reminds her of how she left him behind. He was injured, but that still doesn't make being apart from him any easier; doesn't erase the hurt that was shining bright in his eyes at her leaving him.

"You have met the being from the cycle before yours. He was left to show you what your cycle was spared from. Do you understand? His people would have overrun yours; killed you before you had a chance."

She can't help but snort and roll her eyes. _You want a thank-you, pal?_

"We preserve the best of each cycle and we leave the young species intact. We come when they have begun to choke out life. Do you understand?" The AI asks, with a bit of insistence in a voice far too dueled.

"And creatures like the geth…" she says slowly, trying to understand its logic, "they upset the balance? What? Have whole cycles been wiped out before you could 'preserve' them?"

"Yes."

Shepard shakes her head. "I don't understand. You _let_ me come here. You could have left me to bleed out next to Anderson and you would have won. But… but you brought me up here. You're letting me make a choice that can _kill you_ and _destroy everything_ you've made, everything you are! Why? Just tell me why?" She's so angry. It is letting them win. For some reason it is letting them win. Every damn things she's done, every bit of progress the species of the galaxy has made—coming together, working as one—it doesn't matter.

Garrus steps closer and she wishes the blue eyes looking at her were the _right_ color blue. He would understand this. He's always been the smarter one. He would take one look at this and call bullshit. He would know what to do. He would know what's right.

"You are the avatar of this cycle. The one all others have chosen to rally behind. You are the first to make it here. Even under my control you still made your own choices. No one has broken my control on their own before." He pauses. "You have shown me that my time here has completed. That it is time for me to end so something else can begin. I no longer have the answer. Only the children do."

Outside she is aware the Reapers are not attacking, only defending. They are waiting for her choice.

"You must choose." Garrus steps aside and there is no more time left. So she steps past the ghostly image of her lover and steels herself. Either it's lying, and none of this matters, or she has the power to end this bitter war once and for all.

Control. It's not something she can stomach. Each Reaper is born from a cycle. Each one is the last trace of its kind and they have been forced to kill like they were killed; forced to fight an endless fight. If anything needs to die, it's them.

Synthesis. There is something beautiful about it; _too_ beautiful, in fact. It's not meant for her ugly galaxy.

Destroy. That's what she's started this fight to do. She will die. Hell, she's half dead already. But she hopes that the AI was speaking the truth when it said everything can be repaired. And why not? Machines break and they are fixed. The relays, the ships, the geth, EDI… but will the Reapers stay dead? They might, as they are an ungodly mix of organic and inorganic.

Charlotte raises her gun and shoots as she walks.

She knows she has made the best choice. She knows there is nothing more she can do.

She smiles, remembering the bitter farewell said not even an hour ago.

'_I love you.'_

_Took you long enough to say it. _

* * *

There is a discharge of red colored energy. The commander stares up at the black bodies of the Reapers and feels a sense of bone deep relief as the light encases them and they sag; dead. The ships keep shooting until their guns seem to fail and she hopes she hasn't doomed them. She can see that the engines are still glowing, a little weaker than they should, but that's all she can tell as the Citadel begins to explode around her. The shield above her is holding strong for the moment and Shepard hopes she won't be spaced this time.

Above her the Crucible is in flames and below she sees the arms of the Citadel ignite in a fierce hot white as the space station enters Earth's atmosphere.

"Commander!" Hackett's voice is in her ear and she wonders if he's real or a delusion from the blood loss. She's not even sure how she's standing right now.

"Commander, you did it! Shepard we won—" The comm cuts and she's sure they have finally noticed the falling star. "Shepard do you read me?" His voice is fuzzy. "Are you still on the station? Shepard are you—?" The comm cuts again and she is partly thankful. She wants to die in peace.

Earth is so… _big_. Has it always been this big? How has she never noticed it before? God, it's beautiful. Even dotted with bits of fire and debris, her home is beautiful.

Hot tears stream down her cheeks as she falls to her knees. She lets go of the gun in her hand, because for once she doesn't need it.

She'll never need it again.

Streaks of white wash over the shields around the heart of the Citadel and Charlotte laughs.

Charlotte laughs.


	2. Twisted Body

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Bioware.

**Beta Reader: **OinkyThePiggy

* * *

Chapter Two

Twisted Body

Something is… wrong.

Her body is heavy, too heavy, and she is in so much pain.

Shepard can feel her implants working hard to save her as they hum and whir under her burning skin. She can feel each painful stretch of her lungs and ragged breath she takes, and how each one is only _slightly_ easier than the last.

Wilson and Miranda did a damn good job.

Her cybernetics are reconnecting nerves she wishes would stay muted, as all it does is bring her closer to the land of the living.

Why can't she just _die_? She did her part, now just let her _rest_.

Shepard gasps in pain as awareness hits her full force. Her eyes shoot open and her body convulses with a violent twist of her back as the full weight of her injuries hit her at once. Every inch of her is on fire and in pure agony. She thinks she screams—as she feels the skin around her mouth crack and she can taste the blood that leaks into it—but the ringing in her ears is drowning out everything but the loud screech of pain coursing through her.

Her body convulses again, twisting and wiggling desperately at the symphony of pain singing through her, and she feels a hard tug on her hips. Something is holding down her one of her legs, she realizes, as she tries to shift away to her right.

For a moment she tries to even her breathing, to suppress some of the pain, but this isn't as simple as ignoring a gunshot wound. She can't ignore her entire body.

She tries to lift her head to see what is pinning her, but curving her spine ends up stretching her skin and, from the wave of darkness that passes over her eyes, she knows the pain is too much to handle right now. So she kicks weakly with her free leg and, from plain luck she is sure, wiggles until she manages to pull free. The leg is limp, but hot as her cybernetics start repairing the damage.

Damn she's so tired and in pain, god, so much—

_Focus_, she thinks, _don't dwell on it. Make a plan and move. Just make a plan and move. _

She knows she'll need food soon, as her implants are burning up anything she has, and doesn't have, to spare. The last thing she wants is for them to stop repairing her battered body halfway through and leave her a crippled heap.

Above her, the sky is a strange grayish blue and she finds she can't think straight enough to judge the time of day. They can be rain clouds for all she can tell. The thought of water makes her dry throat itch at the idea.

Steeling herself, Shepard rolls on her stomach, crying out at the chain reaction of pain it causes, and starts crawling.

She passes out a few times mid-crawl, only to wake up feeling dazed and confused before she starts again. She's not sure where she is headed, only knows that she needs to move. Who knows when help might arrive; normally _she's_ the one helping.

As time passes she becomes more aware. The dried blood on her is irritating her wounds and her lips feel incredibly chapped. What is left of her armor is digging deep into her as it drags with a loud scrape across the ground. Around her are large, misshapen chunks of rubble, from both the crashed Citadel and whatever poor city it hit.

Did she land in Europe? Near the main Alliance resistance? That is where her team should be, where everyone would meet up. Or is she somewhere else? Somewhere far away?

How badly did she mess up everything? Are the ships still functional? The Mass Relays? The geth? _EDI_?

Her cybernetics are still functioning when they should be broken. She was at the center of the blast, though, and the red light only surrounded her; it didn't pass through her like it did everything else. So maybe she cheated death again?

"Damn," she mutters as she pulls herself along the jagged ground, her broken leg dragging uselessly behind. "Damn, damn, damn." Bitter tears bite at her eyes. This isn't fair. She was ready to die. It was her time—like Anderson's—and now she's a broken shell of a woman dragging her belly through dirt and filth.

And she's too damn stubborn to just lie down and die. If she can fight, she will. It's her nature. Her stubborn, _stubborn_ nature.

The sunlight is growing stronger. Each time she digs her cracked nails into something (upturned dirt, bits of twisted steel, broken concrete) and pulls her body along, the sun goes higher. She pretends it is her reward for her effort. That the sun is rising just for her and is cheering her on.

_Good job. You made the right choice. No hard feelings. Keep going, you're almost there._

Where? Where is she going? How long has she been crawling? The sun's getting hot. Shade. She needs shade. She needs to rest.

It takes a while but she finally comes to an awning of shade. Shepard rolls into it, gritting her teeth at the pain in her body, and settles on her back. She's breathing hard; like she's been running, not crawling. She tries to take a deep swallow of air, but she needs water bad and her dry throat refuses to cooperate, making her gasp erratically for air. Her head is pounding; causing blood to rush like wild rapids in her ears and drowns out her helpless gasping.

Waiting a bit she realizes she's not about to pass out again and, after some time, her breathing evens and the pounding in her head dies down. She turns on her side and is surprised to see a very a familiar sight; the underbelly of a Mako. It's shading her. Shepard softly laughs, pain blossoming with each weak puff, but she doesn't mind too much.

There is a large hole in the center of it, cutting through the other side and making a perfect circle of light above her head. A Reaper beam must have cut right through.

_If it was the Hammerhead the damn thing would have blown up. _She laughs again.

With great effort, Shepard sits up with her back to the fallen Mako and takes a good look at her surroundings. Whatever city this was she can't tell. Two arms of the Citadel lay broken and cracked across the land. Some buildings have escaped destruction and poke up here and there between the charred steel. She can see smoke—the reason the sky is so gray—and fire. Some sections of the sky are growing black and bits of ash are starting to float down around her.

Then she looks at herself. She's not a much better sight. Her left leg is broken; the bone sticking out through her blackened skin. A thin wire is sticking out with the bone and is flickering with a bright orange light. Maybe if she sets her leg her implants will quickly do the rest?

Her armor is almost all gone, only her chest plate is still in some usable shape. It's hard to tell were the charred edges of her armor stops and her burnt skin beings. Her hands are amazingly whole. Bruised, burnt, and bloody, with cuts covering them, but fully functioning.

So her leg needs her attention first, she reasons. She needs to be mobile, as the fires may spread to her spot at any time.

Turning, she reaches up to the hole in the metal beast and pulls herself up.

It hurts. _It hurts_.

"I know," she sneers at nothing as she pulls herself to hang half-way in the hole. The med-kits should be stored along the back of the Mako. She's relieved to see them still there; three boxes sitting on the bottom wall. Climbing down is not going to be easy, as it takes even more effort to start pulling—

Shepard blinks up at the closed door of the Mako. Her back and head and legs are all screaming at her and she curls up from the pain, tears burning her eyes and the skin on her cheeks. Once the pain became manageable and her tears stopped, she looks down at her leg; it's not worse, or she can't tell if it is.

"What…" _Happened_?

Did she pass out? Or did she slip and hit her head? Does it really matter either way?

Shepard turns to her stomach and reaches for a med-kit. It's just within her reach and she thanks god she doesn't have to move much. She pulls the box to her face, pops the latch, and near cries again. It's full. Bless it all it's _a full kit_. Medi-gel, bandages, pills, medical tools, water bottles, emergency blanket, tubes of paste that is packed with vitamin and nutrition and everything else needed to keep the sick alive.

She clenches her eyes as she tries to center herself.

This means she'll live.

* * *

Shepard pulls the other two packs over and finds they are just the same. In the back of her mind she knows she should feel sorry for the men and women who never got a chance to use them, but her happiness at her survival pushes those thoughts away.

A bottle of water is consumed first. Slowly, to make sure she keeps it down. Next she nibbles on the paste until she's sure her stomach can't handle anymore. She wants to rest, with her hunger and thirst satiated, but the next order of business is her leg.

There are splints tucked in the kits and basic training years ago means she knows how to do this, but she still hesitates as she sits up and leans gingerly on the roof. It's going to hurt and the pain may cause her to blackout again. So she starts to peel off her armor and under-suit first. She has to use the little knives in the kit to pry the pieces off of her and she is surprised to see heavily bruised but intact skin underneath.

From her chest to the very upper part of her tights she was protected enough for her skin not to burn. Still, she layers the medi-gel everywhere, letting it soak into her skin. She is waiting to take the pain pills last; once she's sure she's treated every wound, then she'll numb the pain. The medi-gel feels heavenly as she rubs it gently on. She can see the faint orange of her implants through the bloody cracks on her skin and she feels them hum with new life to work with the gel.

The metal of her dog tags click together as she pulls them carefully off, wincing as the chain pulls at the tender flesh of her neck and rub at the damaged skin. She holds them in her shaky hands and places them aside before resuming her task.

It's at her face that she pauses. Slowly, she presses a gel covered finger to her cheek and she jerks back at the pain. She does it again and her stomach rolls at how wrong her skin feels; bumpy and cracked and raw. She touches her scalp and closes her eyes as she rubs the gel on her bare, bumpy head.

She doesn't want to look. She knows she is a monster right now.

* * *

It takes all the packs from one kit to sooth her skin. She wraps the bandages around her, tighter than she can stand, and leave only her torso and left leg bare. One blanket is tied around her, like a smock, and another is draped over her shoulders. If she does pass out then her body will have some protection.

Two splints are placed on either side of her leg and she takes a deep breath as she recalls how to reset her leg. _Do it fast_, she knows, but her hands still freeze up.

"Oh, come on!" she huffs in a raspy voice. "What's a little more pain at this point?" Her pep talk works just enough for her hands to shoot out and press down.

Only she didn't take into account how weak she is and she has to try two more times before the bone is back into place. She's screaming and crying but she does it. Her hands are covered in fresh blood as she had to press the long orange wire back into her flesh.

Once the leg is set, Shepard doesn't fight the pull at her mind as her head falls forward. Yet, she doesn't pass out, only sits on the very edge of a black abyss as her mind fills with a thick haze.

The sun is setting and the lines of light are changing. She watches as they grow fat and dull across the steel of the Mako. Stretching wide and unfolding across the metal until the warm light just brushes her broken leg and then races up to lick at the tips of her fingers before fading out completely. The light of the fires keep her from being plunged into total darkness as the night stretches on. Her cybernetics are also glowing bright under her skin and the heat of her body is growing unbearable in the cooling night. Does she have a fever? Or is it from the implants?

Sleep. She should sleep. And take a pill.

Weakly, she reaches out and fumbles with the pack of pills until she opens it. She has no idea how strong they are so—even though she is tempted to take a handful to numb the pain and gamble if she'll wakeup in the morning—she takes just four and replaces the cap. She takes a drink of her water before easing down on her back and uses the third blanket as a pillow.

Tomorrow's going to be a long day.


	3. Horrid Pain

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Bioware.

**Beta Reader:** OinkyThePiggy

* * *

Chapter Three

Horrid Pain

Her body is exploding with pain and Shepard lets out a small groan. Her head is throbbing and her left leg feels like Grunt is standing on it. She groans again as she opens her sleep crusted eyes to the bright light of a new day.

"Day two," she mumbles as she grabs onto the side of the Mako and pulls her heavy body up. The sunlight is slanted enough that she's sure it is well past late afternoon. Her bandages are speckled with blood and need to be changed. She also needs to eat as her stomach is cramping with hunger pangs.

Eat first, she decides, since changing her bandages will take a lot of work. She eats about the same as yesterday and drinks a full bottle of water. She notes she has ten left, as there are four bottles per kit. There are only two tubes of paste in each, but she knows they will last her long enough to regain a decent amount of strength. It's the water that worries her.

Her wounds and skin ache as she unwraps them. Blood leaks out but her implants are closing up anything she reopens; she's sure she can't lose much more without falling dead. On her wrist she pauses at a gleam of metal; her omni-tool. She had forgotten about it.

She taps it and feels a wave of disappointment when it doesn't respond. Broken, of course. Still, she's surprised she forgot all about it yesterday—

Her comm! Shepard presses her finger to her ears and hears a wave of choppy static. It works.

"H-Hello? Can anyone read me? T-This is Commander…" she takes a deep breath feeling winded from her excitement, "Commander Shepard. Please, is anybody there?"

Nothing. Only more static. Without a working omni-tool she can't change the frequency. Maybe the Mako has a working comm? Yet, it may as well be miles away with how mobile she is.

She pries the omni-tool from her skin and places it aside. Maybe she can fix it later, after she gets some more sleep and her head clears.

Once her new bandages are in place, and she takes another round of pills, she eases herself back down, too tired to do anything else but stare at the metal of her bloody omni-tool. She leaves the comm on and falls asleep to its hiss.

* * *

Shepard wakes up to the sounds of her breathing hard and the steady hiss of the comm. It's dark outside and her eyes can't focus on anything for too long. She feels clammy and cold and hot all at once. Her head is pounding so hard.

She has a fever.

It's dark but, when she blinks, the static in her ears fades out for a moment and all of sudden it's light.

Then it's dark.

Then it's light.

Thirsty. She's _really_ thirsty. Rolling onto her side, she feels for a bottle of water. Her fingers brush the cool, plastic surface just as her head falls limp to the side and her eyes close.

When she opens her eyes it's still light and she brings the bottle to her. Her eyes flutter and it's dark again. The bottle is a struggle to open and she spills a great deal of it as she pulls it to her mouth. She drinks what's left and, even though her stomach rolls violently at the idea, she pulls a tube of paste over. She manages a few timid mouthfuls before she feels her body go slack.

The static in her ears is back and Shepard opens her eyes. Either it's still dark or dark again. She turns off her comm and is confused to still hear a slight crackle and pop. She turns on her back and listens harder.

The fire has moved closer. If she isn't mobile soon…

Shepard forces herself to swallow more paste than before, until the tube is empty, and takes a couple pills before falling asleep. Time is running short.

When she wakes again she feels stronger; strong enough to even push herself up. She assesses the state of her bandages in the dim (morning?) light and they are filthy. Her wounds must have opened while she was in her feverish state. Maybe she thrashed around? Her body has yet to expel any waste, so nothing is festering in the wounds other than dried blood. As much as she hates to waste her water, she uses two bottles to clean herself before adding more medi-gel and bandages. She's down to seven bottles and five tubes. Her bandages are halfway used up and she hopes her wounds won't reopen for a while.

Her implant must be burning everything she's been eating and drinking, she thinks. Her body is part machine and she needs to account for the extra fuel needed. She eats more and drinks little this time.

It's hard to tell how close the fires are to her. The holes in the Mako show her the sky is thick with black clouds. The sunlight is struggling to pierce the dark masses and it's impossible to tell the time.

How many days have passed? Three? Four?

She sits and stares at the front of the Mako; the co-pilots seat visible and turned askew.

She misses him.

She's been trying not to think of him, of what he must be going through. He must think she's dead. They all must think she's dead. She _should_ be. She's probably the only person who survived the crash, if the broken creature she is now counts.

"Garrus," she closes her eyes and recalls all she can of him, no matter how much it hurts. His eyes, his voice, his laugh, his smile. The way it feels to press her lips to his tough hide and to stroke his cheek. How sweet and tender he is with her when they are alone. How his eyes light up so bright when she walks into a room. The feel of his body pressing down on hers. The sound of her name coming from him.

'_I love you.'_ The look in his eyes as she leaves him behind, to make the last run to the beam. She broke his heart leaving him.

"I love you too." Tears prickle her eyes as she opens them. "And I'm not leaving you just yet. So wait for me." She steels herself as she looks back out at the black sky. "Wait for me."

* * *

She stays awake for a long time, careful not to move her body much. Shepard tries the comm a few times and pokes at her omni-tool. Tomorrow she'll crawl into the cockpit and check for a working comm. Right now, she just lets her body rest.

The paste is actually quite disgusting and she wonders if her returning sense of taste is a good thing as she gags down another mouthful. After a while she grows tired of the sizzle of fire in the distance and starts to hum to herself. She starts and stops, going through songs she half knows and barely remembers. Soon she hums herself to sleep.

Sadly, it's not same. Nothing compares to the sweet purr of his voice.

Shepard wakes up, still sitting, and it's nighttime. The Mako is filled with the soft red glow from the fire and the light is bouncing around the metal walls as the flames flicker and dance. She reaches for her pills, dreading the thought of letting the full extent of her injuries catch up to her, and her hands throb as she does. It's a sign she's been working them too much in their damaged state.

The ache is bone deep and she tries to flex them to relieve some of the pain. They feel stiffer, like she's losing some dexterity, but there is not much she can do about it. Whatever lasting damage she is doing to her hands she'll have to just deal with it when the time comes. They protest as she eats and drinks what she can in the dark.

She leaves her bandages alone and eases herself to lie on her stomach, her back being another source of displeasure. Her cheek stings from the weight of her head and her breasts feel swollen and raw.

A white hot flash of pain rips through her as a reminder that everywhere—every damn inch of her—is injured, and she fishes a few more pills from the now permanently open bottle and swallows them. The pain in her leg is mind-numbing and she wonders if moving on her stomach was a bad idea as she falls asleep to the choir of pain.

The roar of the fire is closer as she groggily wakes, and she knows she can't stay any longer. Shepard replaces her bandages in the weak sunlight, making sure to double the ones on her broken leg after applying medi-gel in thick amounts. Her skin is growing hard to the touch and she's sure she's one great big scab at this point.

She makes sure her face and head are fully covered and, by the time she's fully wrapped, she has only one more set of bandages left. She is forced to discard one of her blankets, as the one acting as a smock is crusted with blood. She fashions another around her body and then makes the other a cape to shield her from both the sun and falling ash. All of her rations fit into two cases, where she places her broken omni-tool and tags inside, and she wonders how she'll take them with her.

Shepard takes a deep breath and stands with the support of the Mako's wall. It hurts. Everything still hurts, but she's not passing out anytime soon.

She slowly makes her way to the front, glancing through both holes, checking to see if the fire is visible. A red glow fills her eyes as she looks out the belly of the Mako and she crawls into the cockpit. She eases herself to lean on the pilot's seat and hits the start panel.

Nothing. The blast must have taken out the power cells or at least the connection to them. There is no time to find out, she knows, and takes a moment to scan the room for anything useful.

Her eyes catch on a metal rod over the co-pilots seat. It's the same rod Tali pulled loose the first time she rode with Shepard. It's a support beam, meant to stop the Mako's roof from collapsing in, but set just right that it can pop loose if need be. Hopeful Tali wasn't terribly strong back then.

Shepard leans over and gives it a good, hard tug. It moves just enough that she feels confident in a second attempt. She pulls again and this time it pops loose. She falls back but catches herself. The pipe takes her weight easily as she hobbles over to her med-kits.

The pipe has no good place to hold onto and so she sits down and pulls the ruined blanket over. She takes a small medical knife from a kit and cuts it into stripes. It takes some tries, and a bit of luck, but soon she has a handle to hold onto that won't slide off. She wraps her two kits in the remains of the blanket, after taking a handful of pills, and ties it so she has a place to grip.

Since the fire is approaching from the belly of the Mako, Shepard gives one last look around her temporary refuge and tosses her bundle out of the top.

Shepard eases herself over and, once safely out, she pats the hood affectionately.

"Thanks, old girl. I think I'm gonna buy one of you for myself when I get home. You all seem to always be saving my ass."

Her head is spinning already from fatigue and she knows she has a long way to go as she lifts the bundle over her shoulder and hobbles slowly away, barefooted and determined.


	4. Dreadful Monster

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Bioware.

**Beta Reader:** OinkyThePiggy

* * *

Chapter Four

Dreadful Monster

Shepard can still see the Mako when she stops to rest and take a drink of water. She ends up drinking a full bottle and she tosses the empty plastic aside. Then, thinking she should keep it just in case it rains and refill it, she hobbles over and retrieves it. She eats a little bit and soon she's on her way again.

"At least I'm walking," she smiles ruefully to herself as she moves slowly along, mindful of where she steps, not wanting to step on anything too sharp. Walking lets her see how _empty_ the city is; no dead bodies or signs of life anywhere.

The city was harvested before the Citadel crashed on it. Unsure if that revelation should make her feel better or not, she pushes it aside.

Her right arm is protesting, more so than the rest of her body, from leaning her weight on her cane. She stops to rest again, against a large slab of upturned pavement. She glances back and the Mako is now just a small, gleaming dot among the gray ash falling from the smoky sky. Shepard feels a wave of pride at her progress.

She can do this. She can survive on her own. It may not be easy (when is it ever easy?) but she can do it.

Around her is the ruins of the city and she can make out various signs in English. Yet, with English being the Alliance standard language, it's hard to tell where on Earth she is. The road she is on is half-way torn up and she has to maneuver quite a bit around the dark chunks of tar and concrete as she moves.

Too soon her head is swimming again and her chest is expanding with painful quick breaths. Knowing that she has gone as far as she can manage for the day she looks around for shelter. Most of the buildings are either destroyed or blocked with rubble and debris.

Finally she finds a building, that isn't completely demolished and, accessible to her. It's a small shop of some sort. The sign is gone and front looks like it was grazed by a Reaper beam. Weakly pushing open the heavy door she heads inside, a bell ringing loud as she enters, and she is both happy and disappointed to see it's a dry-cleaners. Happy because that means clothes, maybe shoes if she's really lucky, but a food or electronic store would have been even better.

The store is small, and tons of clothes are still hanging on the conveyor belt, but she heads to the back first; searching the store before letting her guard down. She's not sure what she expects to find—husks have an annoying habit of showing up in the most bothersome places—but she still searches.

There are stairs near the back of the building and she knows she can't handle them at the moment, as just _looking_ at them is daunting. There are four doors on the first floor. One leads to a little office with a desk far too large for the small, cramped room. There is a small dining area with black and white tiles on the floor; a few of the tiles are visibly cracked and all of them are worn from age. The bathroom she finds is impossibly tiny with just a sink and toilet crammed in there, and the last door is the back exit, which she locks after closing.

She heads back into the main room, filled with machines that she doesn't know the names of but they seem to be in working order, and she's relieved to see the front has an old fashion deadbolt like the back did.

Shepard sets up camp in the dining area. There are no working lights—she flicks the switch a few extra times to be sure—and the bit of light from the little window is quickly fading.

She looks through the cabinets, finding both spoiled and non-spoiled food. It's mainly junk food that's still good and she packs them away for later, as right now they'll only do more harm than good. She finds some dull sliver-wear, paper plates, and cups. She takes a spoon and fork and all the knives.

She stops salvaging as she yawns and her body gives an angry ache. She takes her pills and just curls on the cool tiled floor and falls into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next day the commander explores the office and finds a flashlight that doesn't work. Thinking it may be the batteries she twists off the back, dropping the batteries into to her hand to see what size battery to look for, and jumps as a the two fat batteries give her hand a hard shock. She glares at them while she reassembles the flashlight and sets it down as she looks for other things to take.

Shepard ends up taking some paper clips and other little knickknacks that might be useful later. She's trying hard not to pick up too much junk and she knows she needs to investigate the upper level before moving on from the dry cleaners.

After dropping off her findings she heads to the stairs, and curses as she sits down on the bottom step, and starts sliding up them backwards. At the top she sees she's in some kind of living area; just one large room with the wall along the back missing and a small door to her right. She thinks the charred heap in the corner was once a bed and there's not much else; some pictures she doesn't look too hard at, some slippers she pulls on her feet, and an upturned couch.

A glint of metal grabs her eye from under the couch and she bends down, reaching under it and pulls out a classic six revolver gun.

It's an old one, something that is worth millions to a collector and was probably the prize of whoever once lived here. She pops the chamber open and sees it's fully loaded. Easing down again she digs out a box, full of bullets made far more recently than the gun, and was most likely used for entertainment.

She stands and cocks the gun. She shoots the wall and the hole in it tells her that they aren't hollow shells and the gun still has hell of a kick as her arm screams in pain.

Shepard takes the gun.

* * *

The upper floor doesn't give much more. She finds a metal letter opener and moves to the adjacent bathroom. The water isn't running but the tank is still full on the back on the toilet. Hesitantly, she drinks from the back, making a face all the while, and once she has had her fill she sits and lets her body do whatever it needs to. It's worrisome how little her body discharges and she almost laughs as she flushes; the novelty of it so strange given her situation.

She takes a tube of toothpaste and, after some digging, finds three spare toothbrushes. She doesn't think the paste will sit well with her at the moment and decides to wait until later to clean her teeth. There's an open pack of floss she takes, and some bars of soap. She uses some towels folded in the corner to wrap her finds in and heads back down.

She curses as she slides down, each stair more painful than the last, and catches her breath on the bottom step. She fights the urge to curl up and sleep and she heads back to her camp. She places everything down and removes her cap and smock. Her bandages are dotted red and she grabs her empty bottle and heads for the bathroom on this floor. She refills her bottle and again drinks from the back before untying her bandages and washing them in the tank. The water quickly turns a murky red-brown and she re-ties the wet bandages on her molted skin, sighing in relief at the feel of cool water.

Her eyes drift over to the mirror mounted over the sink. She had avoided looking in the one upstairs, only catching a glimpse of her hooded-self in the corner of her eyes. She should just re-bandage her face and move on. No good can come from looking.

So why is she standing? Why is she moving closer? Why is she looking—

Shepard vomits into the sink.

* * *

With shaking hands she re-ties her face tighter than she needs to. Her eyes are wide as they sting with hot tears and she tries not to vomit what little is left in her stomach.

She shouldn't have looked. She saw the damage on her arms and legs, so why would her face be any different? Her face had no protection, after all; nothing to stop the heat and fire from burning her face, to stop the skin from pealing back to show the meshwork of glowing cybernetics underneath. To stop….

Shepard clenches her eyes close and forces the image out of her mind.

_Monster_. She's such a monster. How can she even _think_ of returning to Garrus like this? Of burdening him with loving something he didn't fall for?

_Surgery_, her mind tries to reason. Her face can be fixed, her body too, if she didn't destroy the technology, that is.

She can't leave the bathroom fast enough and feels an overwhelming need to leave the small building far behind.

In the main room she pulls at the plastic bags covering the clothing. She's not sure what she'll find but knows she needs something durable and easy to move in. There are a few tops she pulls aside and even a costume she yanks off its wire hanger. No underwear, but there is a yellow silk lingerie set for someone near her size. Putting on the upper half she finds it supports her well enough and the silk doesn't irritate her wounds. Her chest feels better having some familiar support but she knows she'll ruin the silk by days end.

The short sleeve shirt she pulls on is loose and she pulls on a knee length dress over it. She pulls apart the costume, something fairly medieval, and takes the upper part. It has a hood and a short cape and that's all that matters. She looks insane but it will have to do.

Back in the dining room she repacks everything and uses a good blanket to wrap it all up. She leaves the torn one behind.

Outside her legs protest as she sets a brutal pace. Away, she just needs to be far away.

So very far away.

* * *

"Fuck," Shepard mumbles as he pushes herself up off the ground. She had passed out. She pushed herself too hard; now every part of her feels like fire and she fumbles for some pills to ease the pain.

Looking around she notices she's in the middle of a… park? How did she end up here? She rubs her cloudy head as looks around. Who knew Reapers were conservationists? The park is completely intact. In fact….

"Is that a _squirrel_?" she wonders out loud as she narrows her eyes at a small moving dot. The city has been so devoid of life that the sight of it is strange. It's bouncing around; darting around rapidly from tree to tree in search of food. She wills the little animal closer and, to her joy, it bounces her way.

"You are!" Shepard smiles as the little guy watches her with large brown eyes. "Hey mister, I was beginning to think I was all by myself here." Slowly she reaches out and his bushy tail twitches before he darts to a tree. He stops halfway up and turns so he can still watch her, tail twitching in the air.

"Aw, come on, I need an animal sidekick." Shepard is shocked by how _happy_ she is to have something other than herself to talk to. Unsure how to get the squirrel to move closer she makes the same sucking clicks she would use to call a cat.

For some reason it _enrages_ it.

"Ow!" Shepard shields her face as the squirrel hurls an acorn at her. "What was that for?" She glares, only to panic seeing the squirrel run up the tree and dart into its home, where it emerges with another nut which he throws with amazing accuracy.

"Really!" She huffs as she picks up the nut and throws it back. Did the fever drive her insane? Is she really yelling and fighting with a damn squirrel? Is the said squirrel really winning?

The squirrel finally grows tired of pelting her and jumps down, tail angrily twitching. Shepard picks up her cane and braces herself for whatever the little nut job is about to do.

Only something big and brown jumps from the bushes and eats the squirrel in one gulp. Shepard fumbles for her gun tucked away inside her pack and freeze as she hears a familiar growl.

Round blue eyes stares excitedly at her and her mouth drops open.

"Urz?"


	5. Foul Thoughts

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Bioware.

**Beta Reader:** OinkyThePiggy

* * *

Chapter Five

Foul Thoughts

In one leap, a way too happy varren is on top of her, licking her face like it's an Earth puppy. For once Shepard feels no trace of pain as she happily hugs the big brute tight to her.

"I don't believe this! Where did you come from, big guy?"

Urz pulls away and falls on his back, wiggling on the ground with his tongue lolling out as he looks at her. He's still the same adorable varren she fell in love with nearly two years ago and Shepard happily reaches out and rubs his soft belly.

Urz flinches as he turns over and she sees his hind legs are littered with wounds; both jagged claw marks and bullet holes that look to have the start of an infection in them.

Shepard needs the medi-gel for herself. She knows that… but she needs Urz too.

So she calms the varren down and cleans and bandages his wounds. From experience she knows how smart varren are and the way Urz licks her hands, once she's done, knows it means 'thank you'.

"You're welcome," she says as she pats the side of his thick chest.

She sits in amazement as Urz bounds around the park, never straying too far from her and eating small animals given the chance.

"Urz," she calls and he slides to a stop at her side, kicking up a bit of dust. His blue eyes shine and Shepard places a hand on his head. "You wanna come with me? There are no big bad krogan named Wreav here to stop us."

He gives a small whine as he presses his head to her hand.

Shepard smiles. "Good."

Urz pulls back and sniffs at her pack. It's half open and Shepard starts to tie it back before having an idea. She pulls out a bag of chips she picked up back at the cleaners and closes the pack. She pops the bag open and hands Urz one. He greedily slurps it up and she waits a bit to see if he reacts badly to it. But varren are known to be able to survive on almost any planet they are dropped on and a bag of chips isn't about to stop this pup.

"Like that?"

Urz licks his chops and tries to snatch the bag from her. She glares and he backs off.

"You'll get more; you can even have them all, if you do me one little favor."

Urz sits and waits.

Shepard takes that as a yes.

* * *

It takes a few tries, but now her pack is tied safely on Urz's back. The large varren barely seems to notice the added weight, even with his injuries. He's too busy harassing her for chips to care.

"If you eat them all now, you won't have any for later," she lectures as she tosses another chip at him. He snaps it up and waits for her to start her slow hobble before bounding off at a run in front of her. He's leading her somewhere, she knows it, and seeing she has no real direction in mind other than 'away from the fire' she's letting him lead.

They don't make it out of the park before Shepard has to stop for the night. The sun is still up and Urz seems confused as they stop. The pack is removed from his back and she pulls out her blankets.

It will be Fall soon. The night air is bearable for now but soon the weather won't be her friend, and it worries her.

Shepard wraps one blanket tight around her and uses the other as a pillow. She finds another bag of chips and dumps the contents on the ground at her side.

"Don't go anywhere, 'kay?" she says, eyes heavy and slightly fearful Urz will be gone when she wakes.

Urz watches her before eating her offered food. He settles down and his large blue eyes scan the park as her eyes drift close.

* * *

Pain forces her awake mid-sleep and Shepard realizes she had forgotten to take a pill before falling asleep. She can't stop her whimpers as she curls into a ball, unable to do anything but cry. Something warm settles against her back and a sad whimper answers her own.

_Garrus. _She wants _Garrus_.

Where is he? Why isn't he with her? She wants him to make things better; to take the pain away. She's so tired of doing everything on her own. So tired….

Maybe he doesn't love her? Maybe the Reapers made him feel that way about her? Gave her something she wanted so she'll have something to fight for? Why else isn't he here? Why else didn't he come searching for her? Why hasn't _anyone_ come looking for her?

Do they know she was a just a damn pawn? A placeholder anyone could have filled? Is that why no one is coming?

Everything makes sense now. How big of an ego did she have to think it was _her_ influence that stopped a three-hundred year old war? That allowed the genophage to be cured?

It was so easy to see the Illusive Man as the token villain. She was just so blind at the end, only seeing what _they_ wanted her to. She should have known he was indoctrinated. He gave too much up fighting the Collectors.

Black and white. They only let her see in black and white, and now it's all a muddled grey.

Why _would_ Garrus fall for her?

_Garrus._

She still wants Garrus. Even if his love for her isn't real, hers for him is.

_Garrus. _

She cries harder.

* * *

The pain wakes her again and this time she pulls at her pack and takes her pills. She falls asleep, waiting for them to kick in.

Waking up she sees its daylight. The clouds overhead are black and ash is falling around her like dusty snow. Urz's face pops into her view and he gives an insistent whine. He does it again and looks off to the side. She uses him to pull herself up and she follows his gaze.

The fire has made it to the park.

How long was she out? How long has Urz been trying to wake her? She has a whole new level of respect for the varren, seeing that he didn't leave her to burn to death.

Everything is packed up tight as she ties it on Urz's back with a blanket. She starts a frantic hobble as Urz dances impatiently around her.

"I'm coming!" she snaps and she swears he rolls his eyes at her. "I can't go any faster."

Urz freezes, his large eyes looking at her and then back at the approaching fire. He snatches her cane from her and she falls forward onto his offered back. In her panic she grips the pack and he bounds off with her attached.

* * *

"Don't ever do that again," Shepard growls as she tends to her broken leg, relieved to see it's still set securely, as she had fallen off once Urz had skidded to an abrupt stop.

Urz snorts, looking around the empty highway leading away from the city. Looking back, the city is a bright, glowing flame in the distance and she watches it until Urz starts walking down the road, turning back to see if she is following. With a heavy sigh and her chin high, Commander Shepard turns away from the glowing red arms of the Citadel and follows Urz.


	6. Bitter Space

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Bioware.

**Beta Reader:** OinkyThePiggy

* * *

Chapter Six

Bitter Space

It's been over a week of none stop repairs.

Crashing on a planet in the Alpha Centauri system, the closest system to the Sol System in the Local Cluster, has left the crew of the _Normandy_ blind to the state of the rest of the galaxy and them working franticly to get both the comms operational and the ship running.

While the damage to the exterior hull of the ship was minimal compared to what it could have been—not even close to the damage sustained during the suicide run on the Collector base over a year ago—repairing the communication systems has been a futile effort. EDI and Traynor both reached the same conclusion that it's not _their_ comm that's broken, but _everyone else's_.

At first, Garrus thought that that was impossible and the AI and specialist merely over looked something. After pouring over the communications system himself, though, he found nothing wrong with it as well. _Nothing_. There is just nothing left for it to communicate to.

This revelation only motivates the crew to work with grim determination, fearing that there is nothing left to go home to.

What exactly happened back there? What was that red blast of energy that the Citadel released? Why did it create an opening that let the _Normandy_ pass through untouched? Why does Garrus feel… _lighter_? Like a weight was lifted off of him when the Crucible activated?

Why does he feel like that when he has no idea where _she_ is?

Shouldn't he… shouldn't it be like before? When she first left him? It had _devastated_ him; left him unable to do anything but seek some type of way to honor his fallen commander's name. It was a singular, overwhelming drive that tore him from his friends and family, from his career and his life. That ate at him day and night until she came back to him.

Yet, now he just feels numb. Hollow even.

He has a commitment to the _Normandy_ and her crew and he can't hide in a corner mourning for a woman he _doesn't_ believe is dead. Shepard made her way back to him once, and it'll take longer than a week before he believes her truly gone.

Garrus isn't sure why he has taken charge of the ship—maybe as a way to keep his thoughts from straying too far into unsavory things—but the crew had no objection when he started organizing repairs and routine scouting missions of the planet.

Maybe, it's because the _Normandy_ has always had a handful of constant personnel and he is one of them. That ever since the _Normandy_'s first tour Garrus has been a norm, a constant presence just like the commander and doctor; like the pilot and admiral.

And Garrus knows what he's doing. He's no stranger to command, not since the Omega 4 Relay jump and even before that. He knows from both experience and watching Shepard work. He knows because this is something he was born to do—to lead—and he stopped fighting it long ago.

It was just too _easy_ to follow her. To know she'll get it right and not worry what would happen if things went south. It was too easy to stand in her shadow because he wanted to make sure she was safe, and the best place to do that was at her back—faithfully at her six—not at her side.

He regrets it now. She needed a _partner_ all those grueling months, not a follower. She needed someone on equal footing with her to take charge when she needed to rest. He watched her burn away like a candle, slowly but surely, and for the life of him he doesn't know why it took him so long to see what was happening to her. To see what was happening right in front of him.

Why was he so blind to her needs?

This is all he can do for her now. Make sure that her crew makes it back to her, and that he makes it back to her. And when he finds Charlotte he'll make it up to her… somehow.

* * *

"Hey, Mr. Temporary Commander," Joker calls through the ships comm.

Garrus looks up from the map of the planet's surface he's been reviewing in the CIC. The planet is very hospitable and visually appealing, so Garrus finds it odd there are no colonies here, so close to the human home world. There has to be something _very nasty _here to stop humans from colonizing it, he reasons. Or maybe humans are more of conservationists than he thought?

"It looks like we're ready for that test run you've been harping about." Jeff sounds excited and Garrus feels a quick rush of adrenaline at his words.

"I'm on my way," Garrus announces as he steps down from the captain's podium and the map is replaced by the normal galaxy map.

Joker is near bouncing in his seat and even EDI is looking anxious as he arrives in the cockpit. Kaidan, Liara, and Tali are also standing crammed in the small space, looking about as calm as Joker.

"All hands accounted for and all systems are a go," Joker says as he looks back over his shoulder at Garrus.

He nods, his heart rate picking up speed, and his visor tells him that the others present have similar reactions. If this works, they'll be on their way back to Earth; back to Commander Shepard.

"Proceed."

Joker nods and turns around. He takes a deep breath and he taps the screen in front of him. The _Normandy_ jerks hard and Garrus has to grab onto the back of the pilot's chair to steady himself. The ship groans and grumbles, but she lifts up from the thick jungle floor and doesn't stall as she crawls higher and higher.

Then she shoots forward and EDI announces all systems are working. Garrus can hear the crew cheering in the CIC and even Kaidan and Tali give happy yells. Liara pats Garrus on his shoulder and he can feel some of the pressure on his heart lift.

Hours later, after performance scans and making sure all repairs are holding, EDI assures that the _Normandy_ is ready to make the long awaited return trip.

"Joker, set a course for Earth," Garrus says, back at the galaxy map.

"Aye-aye, sir," Joker's voice is light and mirthful, something that it hasn't been in the last week.

"EDI, our ETA," Garrus calls. It won't be long now.

"As we are four-point-four light years from the Sol system we will arrive in approximately seven-point-zero-three hours in Alliance stander time."

"Let the crew know."

Not having anything else pressing to do, Garrus heads up to the loft.

He's not sure why he goes up there. He's been avoiding it and has been sleeping on his old cot in the main battery since he was well enough to leave the med-bay _after_... but, right now, with the reality of seeing Earth in a mere few hours, Garrus can't help but dread what he'll find.

The captain's cabin is too still and quiet. Even the trickle of the water in the fish tank seems subdued to his ears as he enters.

The room is a mess. The few times he had visited the captain's quarters on the SR-1, and the increasing amounts on the Cerberus backed SR-2, had shown him Shepard kept her room tidy.

This time around she seemed not to care if her clothes were scattered around the room, hanging off the couches, and thrown on the floor. She didn't care that her ships—her damn beloved ships she had searched the galaxy and, subsequently, the _Normandy_ high and low for—were askew and dusty. It didn't matter how her work desk was stacked high and overflowing with paper and pads….

Spirits, he hopes—_prays_—she's alive. That she's well and this damn war is over. That they are heading back to a Reaper free galaxy.

Garrus scans the room and his eyes linger on the bed, still messy from their last night together. She was so… sad. Never had he seen such a broken look on her before. She was better by the morning, but that night….

Why was he so damn blind? Why did he let her fall so far? How can he even start to make things right with her? And what if she _is_ dead? What if she's dead because she was just too damn tired? Too tired of doing it all on her own. Too tired to take another step or dodge another bullet.

He meant what he said; he wants a family with her. He wants to take care of her for a change and give her the life she deserves. And if she's dead, he can only blame himself.

Slowly, Garrus starts to clean up Shepard's room. Wanting it neat for when she returns.

* * *

"We are now entering the Sol System," EDI announces over the comm just as Garrus exits the lift. The CIC is abuzz with the crew's excited chatter and they all part to let him past. In the cockpit Traynor, EDI, Tali, and Liara are all huddled around the co-pilots chair as Kaidan and Joker both watch with worried frowns.

"Still no answer?" Garrus asked and Tali looks up and shakes her head. "Alright, let's expect the worst; hopefully we'll be pleasantly surprised. If not, at least we saw it coming." Garrus hits his omni-tool, patching himself through to the ships speakers, and orders the crew to their stations. He cuts it and turns to EDI.

"I'm assuming someone other than me is qualified to maintain the battery?"

"For now I can maintain them unless I am engaged in cyber-warfare. Although, my _calibrating_ may not be on par with your level of standards."

Garrus can't help but glare at the AI as Joker chuckles out; "That's my girl."

Garrus' retort is cut off as Kaidan gasps and they all turn to look out the window. They weren't sure what to expect, but _this_….

Earth is now in view. Around her are both the Victory Fleet and the Reapers, all floating aimlessly. The Reapers appear to be dead; all devoid of the eerie blue light that once networked along their metal bodies. The Victory Fleet is huddled close to Earth, just out of the range of the gravitational pull. While the bodies of the Reapers are nothing but black steel, the Fleet is still glowing with traces of life; from the flickering of their engines, to the glow of lights from the windows. Only the geth dreadnoughts seem to share the same fate as the Reapers.

"We… won?" Joker asks as he looks around the room, seeing if anyone else was willing to call what was in front of them a victory.

"I do not know," Liara answers with a deep frown.

Seeing the _Vigilant_—the flagship of the First Fleet, and the ship Primarch Victus was stationed on—within their scope of view Garrus pushes his way pass the mass of women around the comm and tries to hail them.

"This is General Vakarian, posted on the SSV _Normandy_ of the Alliance Navy—"

"_General?_ You're a _general_?" Joker gasps. "Why the hell didn't you ever _mention_ that?"

Garrus ignores him and goes on. "Does anybody read me?" No answer. "Get us closer."

"Seriously, _general_? Kaidan here yaps all day long about making major—"

"I do not."

"—and you don't say a word about general? In what, six months? Is everyone but me and Shepard being promoted?" Joker grumbles as they glide in closer. "Next thing you know Kaidan's gonna be an admiral when we get back and Shep's gonna be on clean up detail, _again_."

Tali laughs. "I think this time around Shepard might get a medal or two."

"Says the youngest quarian admiral ever. Anything on the comms, sweetie?"

"Negative," EDI answers. "Also, I do not understand why you would want a promotion, as anything higher may lead to you being reassigned to a new ship."

Joker snorts.

"Yeah, because you're going to _let_ the Alliance have their way with you again. Come on babe, you're callin' the shots now. No one's going bug you after everything that's happened. You're free to do as you please, really. Stay with the Alliance or not, it's up to you."

Garrus notices this sounds like a conversation they've had before and, from the way EDI goes quiet, he knows it is.

Joker is partly right. While the Alliance may make a fuss, there is no denying the level of intelligence the _Normandy's_ AI is at; fully self-aware with emotions to boot and now a hero to the whole damn galaxy.

EDI could run a day spa if she wanted too.

"Damn it all, still nothing," Traynor sighs as she rubs her temples. "Maybe we should board? See what's going on inside?"

"Start docking procedures," Garrus agrees. "Who wants to board the maybe ghost with me? Kaidan, Tali?"

"Sure," Kaidan grins. "You make it sound so very appealing, how can we say no?"

"I kinda wish the armory was still up here," Tali says as they head down to grab their gear. "Or that the elevators were a _wee_ bit faster."

While below deck, Garrus tells James and Javik to suit up, to guard the ship, and grabs an extra pistol for Liara.

In the airlock, armed and ready, Garrus opens the comm channel through his helmet and the others do the same.

"Docking successful," EDI announces as the doors open in front of them and they board the _Vigilant_.


End file.
